


Gemini

by beltainefaerie



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Attempted Murder, Blood, Coercion, Cutting, F/M, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, M/M, Marking, Murder, Parental Death, Rough Sex, Torture, Twincest, fiancee death, noncon, reference to suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 15:11:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2155200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beltainefaerie/pseuds/beltainefaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The relationship between the Moriarty twins had always been twisted, but nothing compared to the fallout when they parted ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gemini

**Author's Note:**

> This BDSM in this fic, ranges from consensual powerplay among individuals who are far from safe or sane to outright rape and torture. This is your warning. Do not try this at home kids. 
> 
> In Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s stories, both Moriarty brothers are named James. My headcanon is this: The Moriarty’s were rather simple folks. They had not been expecting twins and certainly not expecting both to live once they had. So they went with the single name they had chosen and differentiated with nicknames.
> 
> Thank you so much to demonicsymphony, Shellysbees, type40consultingdetective, who were invaluable in their prodding, poking, listening and beta work. Thanks especially to amphigoricsymphony for unwittingly inspiring this work.
> 
> Note: I discovered that a piece had been left out of the final segment between Sebastian and Richard. This has been fixed as of August 19th. Sorry.

\---

“Two sides, but the same bad penny.” That’s what their Nan had said, shaking her head as she watched them tear around the yard, mischief ever following in their wake. 

“They’re just willful,” Mum had countered. “Strong”, she said, always quietly proud even of their destruction. 

But then James had grown up, steadied where Jim had swung to further extremes. He knew it had gotten worse when he left. But even knowing, he just couldn’t stay. It wasn’t...right.

\--  
“It’s a good name!” she lilted, her voice forever caught in nursery-rhyme tones with her children, but him most of all. She wasn’t well and wasn’t always lucid now, either, but he wanted her to know. 

James fixed her tea, adding more than a bit of her favorite whiskey. A little more liver damage was hardly the problem now.

“So wee, you were, lad. No way to know...” She was mumbling, recounting old tales to herself as much as to him, though at least today they bore relevance to the conversation. “No way to know you were even there. Midwife thought the afterbirth was coming on quick. Worried I might bleed out there by the hearth, but there you came. So quiet. Not a peep. Jim squalled at first and never quite quit,” she cackled. “Not you, my James.”

She rocked in silence for a moment, reaching out to drawn one gentle hand down his cheek. So tender. Hands that had tended and swatted in equal measure, now softened with age. He couldn’t think of what to say. 

“From the Bible, you know. Not just your Grandfather, God rest him.”

“Mum, you’ll still have a son named after him.”

He wanted her to know, even if she wouldn’t acknowledge it or give her blessing. But he had hoped she might understand. 

“Jim. Where is Jim?” She looked about, startled for a moment.

“He let us have a bit of time. He’ll be along again soon.” he soothed, handing her the tea.

“Really, though. Richard?” she scoffed, “It’s not from the Bible, isn’t even Irish. None of our kin…” she trailed off, clearly too incensed for words. He wanted to argue that neither was James; it was Hebrew. But he knew he wouldn’t get far with that. Beside the point at any rate. And away from kin is what he needed. Far away. 

He wondered vaguely if England was far enough.

\---  
Jim had always been so easily bored. And that wasn’t good. For anyone.

So it had started. Games of hide and seek. Treasure hunts. Anything at all to keep Jim busy and out of trouble. But the summer they turned thirteen, everything went sideways, shifting inexorably. The games of tag had turned to wrestling and then wrestling turned into something else entirely one afternoon on the soft bed of leaves in the woods behind their house. He had been running so fast and he thought he might actually make it back to the base when he slipped and Jim pinned him, not content merely to tag. He began to tickle James, who of course retaliated, both trying to restrain the other.

Jim won, as he nearly always managed to.

But this felt different. Jim’s thigh pressed hard between James’s legs and as he struggled, between one breath and another, something changed between them. No longer exactly vying for control, they were simply moving, hips working frantically against one another, the friction through their clothes as delicious as it was forbidden. Jim shifted, controlling the movements and suddenly, he leant down, his lips brushing his brother’s. Always the leader and though James’s eyes opened wide, startled, and his breath stuttered, he followed where Jim led. Always.

\---

He hadn’t seen anything. Not really. But enough to know. That wasn’t how _brothers_ played.

He shouldn’t have been in their woods, had no reason to cut through them. 

But he had. And ever since, he had teased. Quietly. Never got in trouble. Seldom goaded them into trouble. But laughed. Laughed and laughed.

“We could stop him, you know.” Jim crooned, tucking an unruly lock of hair behind James’ ear. “We could stop his laughing. Forever.”

He considered it for a moment. Just a moment. The smallest of hesitations before he pretended that he thought his brother was joking.

“You shouldn’t say things like that. What if someone took you seriously?”

He laughed and they wrestled and the moment was gone. But he always knew, deep down, that Jim wasn’t joking at all. 

And he hadn’t done anything.

And now Carl Powers was dead.

The police didn’t suspect anything. It looked like an accident, a freak thing. But James knew.

It haunted him from the moment he heard of the tragedy and in that instant, he decided. He was going to get away. From this tiny cottage. From whatever this was with Jim. It would take a few years, but he was going to uni, going to change his fucking name if he had to. 

He wasn’t going to be back for a good long while. 

Notification of the deed poll had arrived at the house. Of course Jim had opened it, always entitled to anything and everything. There it laid out in black and white that James Moriarty was heretofore known as Richard Corcoran for any and all dealings. He intended to change his first name, but somehow at the last moment, he had slipped his mother’s name onto the form.

Jim was positively livid. “So you changed your name? What exactly do you think that will do?”

“Give me a new start!” Richard shouted, Jim’s anger fuelling his own. It was what they did, feeding off each other until he could barely tell what emotions were even his own.

“You’re just scared. A fucking coward. So go on then. Go find your boring, mediocre little life out there.”

“I need to do something with my life, Jim. I can’t stay here!”

“You’ll wish you could come back,” he snarled defiantly, glaring up at the man he would always call James.  
\---

Richard spotted her across the main hall during opening session. Something about her smile drew him in, made him wonder what she was up to, in the best possible way. They had a couple classes together, but massives lectures. Not anywhere he could really chat her up, even if he could manage a seat next to her. But he couldn’t even do that until two weeks in. Still he kept trying. 

Somehow the blonde usually by her side was absent and Richard took a chance.

“This seat taken?”

“Not today,” she said. “Donna’s, my dorm mate, is sick.” 

“Aw. I hope she gets better soon. You’re Lisa, right?”

She smiled broadly. “That’s me. But I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”

“Richard,” he said, smiling back and extending his hand. “I hear you’re from out of town as well.”

She laughed, and it was even better than her smile. I’m from New Hampshire. Study Abroad. You?”

“Just moved here.”

Just about then the lecture began and they were both focused students. He thought that might be it for the day and was trying to decide whether to ask for her number or invite her to dinner when she surprised him. 

“I’m free at the moment. Would you like to grab coffee before the next course?”

He accepted and that was the beginning. It became a regular part of Tuesdays and Thursdays. Sometimes Donna joined them or one of his mates, but often, it was just the two of them. It should have been boring, but it was perfect. Soon after, there were dinners and study sessions, and before the term was over, they were officially dating and she was working out an extension to her student visa. 

It was early on, but he started to wonder about settling down. It seemed sudden, but they just fit. 

\---

He didn’t want to be here. The house was too hot, too close. Oppressive.

Even when Jim wasn’t hovering around. 

Richard sighed. He wanted to remember her as she was. Not this hollow little husk of a woman. She was small, even more than last time. Her body now as fragile as her mind. She looked nearly ready to take flight, like she would blow away on the wind. 

The stubbornness they both inherited had stayed. They hadn’t gotten her to eat more than broth in days. She wouldn’t. Not even for her boys. 

Richard scrubbed a hand over his eyes, exhausted. It was important for him to be here. To all of them. Closure of a kind, he supposed. He would never have forgiven himself if he hadn’t, but it was too much. Too hard. He slipped onto the porch, unable to bear that room one more second. Out here at least the birdsong distracted from the interminable silence of her room. 

Tears pricked his eyes, but wouldn’t fall. 

He had class on Monday. He felt guilty going, but he couldn’t stay away. It was time. He lit a cigarette even though he’d quit a month ago. He didn’t hear Jim come up behind him, and startled when he snatched the cig, taking a long drag and blowing it out in slow, thoughtful rings.

“Everything is changing.” It was neither lament nor challenge, simply the truth as he saw it. But things were rarely simple with Jim.

“Not everything,” Richard managed, without much conviction. He had been doing so well, but his mother’s illness, his brother’s schemes… he felt unmoored. What Jim planned, there was glory and a strange kind of stability in it. If it held. But Richard shook his head. “I don’t want this. I don’t want an empire, Jim. I don’t want to rule the world I just want to live in it.”

“You, _James._ ” He pointedly ignored the name change, as always, “You’re breaking my heart. I’ve done all the work, set everything and you won’t even take your place? What are you going to do? Go to an office? Find a little wife? Two kids and yappy mutt?” He leaned in close, his breath ghosting over his brother’s ear. “Bo-ring,” he trilled softly in songong tones. “We left normal behind long ago. Come play!”

And for the first time in a very long time, Richard found himself unswayed by his brother’s taunts or demands. “No.” He said it simply, but his tone brooked no argument.

“You are weak.” Jim snapped, and Richard braced himself expecting a slap, but his rant just continued .“You always were. Weak and boring and normal. Always! I don’t know why I even tried.”

Richard softened when Jim only lashed out with his words. His resolve would have been stronger if Jim had hit him. 

He turned back. He didn’t want this, to hurt him, but he couldn’t… he didn’t want to stay. He tried to explain, beginning softly, “Jim, I...”

“Just go.”

Dismissed, just like that.

“Brother...” he implored, but Jim didn’t budge.

Jim stared sullenly out the window. “I have no brother.”

\---

Sebastian startled slightly at Jim’s agitation. 

They had been laying in bed, Jim flipping through various surveillance photos, bank records. That’s when he spotted it. The ring. Somehow, that had done it, truly pushed him over the edge. Before that, Jim had figured it was only a matter of time. James would would come home. Everything out there was so boring. Tedious. Tethered down, they couldn’t soar. But now?

“No, no, no. This will not do!” his voice filled with quiet rage.

“Boss?” 

"Bring him home, Seb. I don't care how. Seduce her. Kill her. Something! I don’t care, just do it! She's luring him away. He's going to the States with her on holiday. Meeting the parents. Bring. Him. Home!"

\---

Mum gone. 

Now Lisa? He should have been in that car. If his train hadn’t been delayed, he would have been. It had been over instantly. He thought watching his mum ebb away had been hard. But this? This was even worse somehow. He hadn’t even been able to say goodbye. Just like that...gone. Gone and left him to soldier on without her as though nothing had changed. There were still classes, obligations. The world didn’t stop, but really, what was there anymore?

It was tempting to leave. Simply admit defeat. He could see it now. The quiet cottage, the still lake when they wanted peace. The world travel. Jim had access to nearly anything he wanted now. and it was tempting. To go home, to take his place. To feel Jim’s arms around him. He closed his eyes and bit his lip hard, the pain grounding him. 

He couldn’t. He wouldn’t go home.

He wasn’t involved, but he heard whisperings. And he wished what he gathered surprised him. But it didn’t. and the body count was too high. 

He wouldn’t sit on a throne of corpses, no matter how you dressed it up. And he realized with a shudder that he didn’t even know what Jim was capable of any more. 

\---

Seb sighed as he listened to his orders. Surveillance of Baker Street, recon on some pool. Nothing he couldn’t handle. In his sleep. 

He had done his part with James’s little pet. She was dead, but the bastard still wouldn’t come home. Seb didn’t mind having Jim to himself, but he’d be lying if thoughts of the twins in his bed had never crossed his mind. And anything, _anything_ , would be better than these sulks and fits of pique. 

Jim was bored. More than bored, he was bored and upset, and that was a far different kind of dangerous. James wouldn’t even return his calls and Jim couldn’t exactly offer condolences. It would let James know about the surveillance at the least. Or worse, might set him to wondering whether Jim had anything to do with it. 

The games they played could only divert him for so long and they were running out of expendables for Jim to take frustrations out on. He needed a distraction. Maybe his new obsession with the detective would work. This elaborate game to catch the genius’ attention. 

Part of him wished he wished _he_ could be enough.

But his Boss was like a powerful force of nature. Beautiful even in its destruction. He wouldn’t rein in that energy for anything in the world.

And if he was going to watch the world burn, they’d at least do it together.

So he had thought.

\---

“Done playing house, Boss?”

Jim braced himself on the arms of the chair, looming over Seb before leaning in for a kiss. “Not quite yet, but soon. Jealous?”

He was, though not of the reporter bitch. Not that he’d say anything to Jim, merely grinning up at him, a wicked glint in his eye. “What do you think?”

“I think,” Jim said, slipping into his lap, “That you trust my plan even when you hate it, that you need this even when you don’t want to, and that you are going to let me ride you right here despite everything,“ he nipped at Seb’s ear as he whispered, “because you miss me, desperately.”

He was tempted to resist just to spite him, but the truth was, Jim was right. He generally was.  
That, at least was predictable in this chaos. Besides, he had no idea how long the charade with Kitty needed to go on or when Jim might be able to slip away again. Best to enjoy it while he could. 

Seb buried his face in the crook of Jim’s neck, but pulled back wrinkling his nose. “You smell like her, you know.”

“Better fix that!” Jim singsonged, “Just don’t leave marks.”

And what if I do? Seb thought. Sometimes it was just fun to push. 

Jim wasn’t the only one who got bored.

\---

“I told you no marks,” Jim said. Seb came to, fully alert like in the field, and screaming as the tiny scalpel slipped along his chest, crimson rising in its wake. 

His mind was active, but his vision blurred and his head splitting. Drugged, then. Not typical with Jim, but not completely unheard of. Words still felt distant. 

He pulled against the bonds, but they were so taut that he couldn’t budge at all. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Jim crooned. “Do stop struggling. You’re strapped down tight enough you can’t hurt yourself unduly, but you won’t like the results at all if you ruin my design.

Seb blinked at him, breathing deeply through his nose to process. He was grateful for the scent of surgical spirit in the air and for the crumpled wrapper from the disposable blade he could see on the table. Jim wasn’t completely reckless. Well, not with him. 

He couldn’t tell the shape of the mark just yet, could only feel the burn of the blade.

“That’s it, Tiger. _My Tiger_. This will hardly be the worst if things don’t go as planned. I am supposed to be at home with my honey tonight.”

“Aren’t you?” Seb quipped through gritted teeth.

“Don’t get cute with me.” He cut deeper this time, remarking idly, “I think I liked it better when you were screaming.” 

Seb grunted, but was otherwise stubbornly stoic, teeth gritted and breathing hard. 

“After last time, it is a good thing Kitty favors the dark. Can’t see this little charade through if she thinks I have a piece on the side.”

Seb smiled then, but the next cuts made the words come out in a hiss. “Is that what I am?”

“Perhaps more, if you could learn follow. simple. instructions. This reminder _will_ help, I trust.”

Jim’s eyes lit up as he turned the blade, working it under Seb’s skin. He lost it then, his screams echoing off the walls as Jim tugged on the strip of flesh and giggled, “Perhaps you didn’t quite believe me when I said I’d skin you.”

Seb shuddered, flushing hot. He would like it to blame it on the shock, but he could feel himself growing hard and blood rising to his cheeks at the shame of it. There was nowhere to hide, naked as he was, and it wasn’t as if Jim was likely to ignore his arousal no matter what state of dress he was in. He always noticed what effect he had. 

Still, Sebastian couldn’t help but wonder himself, _Even this?_

“Masochist,” Jim said, fondly pressing his thigh against Seb’s hardness as he continued.

Seb cleared his throat. “Some phrase comes to mind about pots and kettles.” Jim kneed him, though not hard. For that comment, Seb knew he deserved it. Taunting the man with the knife to your chest wasn’t exactly brilliant, but thankfully Jim had been kind enough to move the blade before exacting his small retribution. It hurt, but not enough to alleviate Sebastian’s condition. If anything he ached more.

Jim turned the blade, pressing the flat edge against him and kissed him hard, crushing their lips together without warning. Apparently, despite his annoyance, Jim had missed him. Seb smiled into the kiss.

 _God, he had missed this._

As Jim pulled back, his gaze was heated. He managed two more short shallow cuts before Seb began to get shaky. That _was_ the shock. He needed water and something to eat, but before he had even managed to make the request Jim set aside the blade on the small silver supply tray. Seb heard the click of several quick release clips and Jim rolled him onto his side. The shift made the cutting bleed profusely, thick, wet drips streaking his chest and staining the drop cloth on the massage table where he was laid out. Jim rubbed his shoulders and helped him sit up, handing him a small plastic bottle of what appeared to be water. 

“Drink it all. Little sips, though. I will not have you getting sick on this table, Pet.”

Jim stripped off his gloves, and stalked over to the kitchenette, binning them and riffling through the cabinets. He returned shortly with a pack of biscuits and another of crisps. “All we have down here. I wasn’t expecting so long a stay,” he remarked pointedly. It wouldn’t do for Seb to remind Jim that he’d managed to bring the med kit, so he could have brought other provisions. 

Seb drank, and found that it was water, though it tasted very slightly sweet. A fair sign that he was slightly dehydrated. Even in little sips, he’d downed half the bottle by the time Jim was back at his side.

He glanced down, but still could tell nothing of the design in the blood streaking his chest, though he took note that it was over his heart. He shrugged, resigned to see it when it was finished. His madman, boss, sometime lover, waited, nearly patiently, as Seb ate the crisps, one of the biscuits, and finished the rest of the water. “Better, now?”

Seb nodded, settling back and allowing himself to be tied down once more.

Jim tugged on a new pair of gloves, snapping them against his wrists as they settled into place. The sting of surgical spirit made Seb twitch and he cried out as Jim cleaned him up, wiping away the blood and smiling as he worked. 

Humming to himself, he picked up his blade and set to work once more. For the next half hour Jim sliced and pulled, whittling away tiny strips of flesh, conforming Sebastian’s very flesh to his will. He stopped now and then, applying pressure when the welling blood made it hard to work. 

At last, he was satisfied and leaned back, admiring his work. Applying careful pressure with disposable kitchen towels, he mopped up the blood. Soaking through several, he set them aside like prints. Perhaps he’d frame one for his wall. 

He wiped Seb down once again. Sensitive now, Sebastian honestly whimpered. 

“Oh, you are going to be fun, aren’t you, Tiger.” Seb’s eyes widened at that. “Aw. You didn’t think we were done, did you? Hardly.” Jim scoffed.

He opened a package of Tagaderm, the clear film sealing perfectly over his handiwork. He traced his fingers over the stylized magpie's wings, its beak, its tail. Stripping off his gloves, Jim let his hands lightly sweep over Seb, barely touching. He shuddered, his arms and legs breaking out in gooseflesh. 

Jim shucked out of his trousers and pants and took up a bottle of lubricant, popping the top open with one hand. He slicked himself and unclipped the bindings across Seb’s hips, granting him just enough movement. 

He lined up and pressed forward steadily until he was fully seated. He did not stop for a moment. Seb didn’t need to be coddled, certainly not today. He snapped his hips forward. Seb needed to feel this for days. As his thrusts became harder, he pressed his palm against the new mark until Seb screamed. Mindful of the steady pressure, to hurt him, but not damage the design. If too much blood seeped underneath, he’d have to change the bandage when they were done, But actually bringing tears to Seb’s eyes? Certainly worth it. He swiped his fingers across his lover’s cheek and brought them to his lips as he snapped his hips forward. “You are positively delicious like this.” 

Sebastian merely bit his lip, groaning beneath him. He knew he would take whatever Jim gave until he was done. And with Jim in this mood, that was going to take a long, long time.

\---

His chest ached. He took a long pull of his fag and tossed it into the gutter. It had been raining all morning.

_Bastard wouldn’t even see him coming. How did he have any right to breathe when Jim was in the ground._

But looking at Richard ( _James_ , Jim’s voice whispered in his head) through his scope, he couldn’t do it. The only time in his life he had even halted when his target was in view, outside of awaiting specific orders. This time the only orders were his own and he couldn’t fucking do it. 

His vision blurring, hands shaking, Seb set the rifle across his knees, dashing his hand over his eyes, and began disassembling the weapon. 

\---

“Why couldn’t you just come back?” Sebastian asked, his voice a dark growl.

Richard laughed hollowly. “We grew apart? We wanted different things? Why does any relationship end?”

“He would have done anything for you!” Sebastian shouted.

“Anything, but let me go.” Richard tried to keep calm, hoping against hope that he could talk his brother’s gunman down.

Seb was done talking. He struck Richard across the face. It stung, but after everything else? It barely registered. 

“Sebastian, please...”

“Please? He loved you, needed you, and you fled.” His outrage couldn’t be contained. “You didn’t deserve him. Not at all. Are you even sorry he’s gone?”

Richard wasn’t sure he was. Voicing that in this place would surely get him killed, but his silence spoke enough.

Sebastian stared at Richard murderously. The last thing Richard registered was the feel of Sebastian’s fists. 

\---

It was still. So still and silent. He could barely make out Sebastian’s breathing. It was morning, but only just, the sky visible through the window lightening to a hazy pink. Richard rolled over, wondering if he could slip out of the bed. Where would he run to? He didn’t know. He thoughts raced with _anywherebuthere_

Just as he was nearly out of bed, the springs creaked and Seb threw an arm over him, dragging him close. 

“Shh... Shh... Shh,” Sebastian soothed. So tender, stroking down Richard’s cheek. “All too much. Taken too much out of you, hasn’t it, Boss?” He pinned Richard down, rolling his hips against him. “Just relax. I’ll help you forget all about it.”

Richard could feel the rush of lust despite himself, his cock thickening as Seb pushed down his pyjama bottoms and pressed against him, their naked flesh sliding together. 

Shuddering, breathless, helpless, Richard let himself be taken apart. 

Sebastian Moran was a smart man and by all accounts a brilliant gunman, but he had clearly cracked. Richard had given up reasoning with Seb on the first day. By the third, he’d generally stopped fighting. 

No matter what his goal, it seemed that the man was very talented. He could bring pain or pleasure efficiently as he chose. Richard shuddered at the flood of memories of the past few days. Punches that split his lip or knocked the wind out of him, but avoided breaking bones. Days of being captive only to be “rescued” when Seb broke again, unable to handle that Jim was truly gone.

In those moments, there was no missing the many, many reasons Jim had kept him around. He couldn’t help but react to the memory of Seb’s lips wrapped around him. When he was feeling nostalgic, or lost in thinking Jim was the one beneath him, he could be quite… pleasant. 

Richard let himself get lost in it and when he was wrung out with pleasure, he could hear Seb whispering. “There now. That’s better isn’t it? Can you sleep a bit more?”

Sebastian was clearly wide awake, energised by their activities rather than exhausted. 

“Rest,” he murmured, petting Richard’s hair. “You just need to rest.” He wanted to protest, but he had missed his opportunity for the moment. He would have to wait for another chance and when it came he needed to be rested and strong enough to take it.

Richard lay back and let sleep claim him. 

\---

Richard closed his eyes as Sebastian mouthed down his neck. _At least today he thinks I’m Jim. I’m not likely to spend the day paying for his death, or for sharing his face._

He took a deep breath and willed himself to stillness, ready to take whatever was coming, before it dawned on him. His brother was nothing if not capricious. There ought to be some way…

 _I’m Jim, I don’t want this. What do I do?_

He hardened his gaze, pulled back his hand and slapped Sebastian full across the face. “Down, Tiger. I’m not in the mood.”

Sebastian blinked hard, but said nothing. There was hurt in his eyes, but only said, “Sure, boss. Whatever you need,” before slinking off to his desk. His hand drifted to his chest, barely aware he was seeking some small comfort in idly tracing the scarred hollows and ridges of the bird through his shirt. 

_Now what?_

If Seb thought he was Jim, it was all well and good, but then, what? He had been fighting it, but what if he just slipped it on, Jim’s guise, just long enough to get out of here. It might be his only chance.

Richard’s thoughts turned to getting Seb to run an errand. Where would Jim have wanted to go? Where could he escape?

The best he could manage was a tantrum about the food, whinging that a quick trip into town couldn’t hurt. “No one would bother about us. No one knows us here.” 

It was a gamble. Examine too closely why they are hiding out and Seb could snap right back to the present. Luckily, he and Jim had spent most of their relationship on the run and whinging about, well anything really, wasn’t out of character for Jim when he was bored. Thankfully, that bit at least worked.

But even the best laid plans can go by the wayside in action and as plans went, this gambit to get into town and get away, was hardly a plan at all. More of a goal, really. Seb stayed practically at his elbow the whole time. Looking up Richard took in the security cameras and a plan B began to form.

“When did you get this clingy?” Richard snapped in his best imitation of his late brother. Taking in Seb’s face, Richard softened. “Sorry, Pet, you know what being cooped up does to me. Just give me a bit of space. I’ll be along in a moment.” 

He didn’t go far and kept peering back, clearly wary. Richard managed to scribble ‘Help Me’ on a paper as he appeared to browse bread. He chose a dark rye and kept walking, flashing the paper at the the security camera in the back corner as he picked up a sleeve of biscuits (Jim’s favorite) and just managed to tuck the slip away before Seb took a step towards him, curiously. Richard hung his head and stalked over, tossing the items into their trolley. 

Who knew if anything would come of it, but it was the best he could do. 

\---  
Mycroft’s PA tapped on the door.

He looked up from his paperwork, “Come in.”

“Sorry to bother you, but I knew you’d want to see this.” 

The security camera footage was grainy, but Moriarty’s face was unmistakable. As were the words scribbled on the scrap of paper. “Help Me.” Nothing else. But the date and time stamp in the corner of the footage made no sense. That was two days ago. Jim had been dead for two years now. 

This warranted serious investigation.

“Cancel my afternoon meetings,” he ordered and backed up the footage, pausing on the man with the sign. “Who are you?” he breathed as the door slipped shut with an audible click. Leaning back in his chair, he took a deep breath, steepling his fingers against his lip in thought.

\---

It was worse when Seb snapped back again. The worst beating in the entire time he’d been here, in fact. His brother’s right hand man had always avoided serious damage to his face before, but whatever held that at bay was gone now. Blood was gushing from a nose Richard feared was broken. 

"If you would just have come home they'd both still be alive." Sebastian growled. 

"Both?" Richard said, genuine confusion stealing over his bloodied face.

“Jim and your skirt."

"Lisa?" Richard could barely breathe, his chest hollow. 

Sebastian laughed bitterly. "Well, I didn't ask her name when I rigged the brakes."

"God, no," Richard cried out, before he devolved into wrenching sobs, far more at the news than from Seb's fists. He could barely register the pain anymore. He was floating above it on the tide of his grief. _Did he really...? Could Jim have ordered...?_ He couldn't even form the thoughts.

For once he was glad he was tethered, keeping him from hitting the stone floor when his knees gave way.

His lip was split open again and the left eye was far too swollen to see out of anymore, but Seb showed no sign of stopping this time. He wasn’t even slowing down. 

His body aching all over, Richard held on and did his best to breathe through it, praying he would survive. 

Sebastian’s fists were pounding him relentlessly now, in a fury. Body blows that knocked the wind out of him. Richard’s vision swam and he gasped for air. He barely made out the distant sound of a helicopter, far too close, when everything went dark.  
\---

He came to with the sound of monitors, the constant whirs and beeps of machines. Trapped. His arms tied down to the bed? He couldn’t move them, and panic began to set in. He tugged and jerked at them, only to collapse again. Everything took too much energy. He felt hazy, but slowly the connections began to form. He blinked slowly and even in the dim light, he could see where he was, smell the ubiquitous antiseptic clean, the uniform clean white linens tucked around him. The adjustable hospital bed felt more comfortable than it ought to. A clear sign that he was exhausted. Nothing hurt, but he assumed that had something to do with the IV line. He could feel the mask and breathing tube, could feel his heart rate increase even as the monitor picked it up. 

Trying vainly to free his arms one last time, almost involuntarily, Richard was distantly aware that he’d probably be one of those idiots frantically ripping off the equipment right now. Logic had no way to deter the natural panic reactions. All he knew was that he’d been through hell and he couldn’t spend another minute chained up. His voice was hoarse and muffled as he called for the nurse before noticing the switch just in reach of his right hand. As the call light came on, he tried to relax as he waited. 

Moments later, it wasn’t a nurse who appeared, but a gentleman in a well-tailored suit with an umbrella in hand. “Good evening. How are you feeling?”

“Who are you? How did I... what happened?” Richard whispered. 

“I am Mycroft Holmes. You were rescued from Jim’s second in command, Sebastian Moran. It appears you were held captive for some time. You came to my personal attention after your stunt at the grocers. Though at first I wondered what ploy this was, what game this time, it became obvious as soon as my men and I got a look at you that your plea was genuine. In fact, it is for the best I wasted no time in coming to retrieve you or I fear that your fate might be the same as your brother, not that it seemed you had much to do with him.”

“Es...estranged,” Richard managed before breaking down in a coughing fit.

Mycroft hummed a soft murmur of acknowledgement, then stood aside as a nurse bustled in. 

“You are in a small private hospital, Richard. Do not trouble yourself over the cost, regardless, but I may have work for you when you are sufficiently recovered.” The nurse fussed with monitors and checked vitals as Mycroft continued. “If you are amenable, of course. In the mean time, rest well.” With that, Mycroft began to sweep from the room, but turned back at the last moment, “ I assure you, Sebastian will not trouble you again.” 

Richard’s eyes widened and he wondered whether that meant Sebastian was in custody or something else, and he nearly asked, clearing his throat to begin before catching himself. The nurse offered him a glass of water and he took it, resigned. Deciding that the less he knew at the moment, the better, he settled back against the pillow and took a drink, gingerly. 

Mycroft looked him over once more and gave him a tight smile as he strode out into the hallway. 

Richard leaned back and closed his eyes, for now just glad they had found him at all.  
\---

The light was different when Richard awoke. Glancing towards it, he noticed the muted sunlight filtering in from a window just to the left of his bed. Otherwise the room seemed remarkably similar, though even overcast as it was, he appreciated seeing the outside world. To be able to track day and night at least would be something. In and out of twilight sleep for days and days, he had no real sense of time. Not for how long he had been with Seb... Colonel Moran, he corrected himself. Certainly not for the recovery here. 

They had dropped his pain meds days ago. He felt less sore today. All told, the Colonel had gifted him with a terrible black eye, a broken nose and two cracked ribs, numerous abrasions. The contusions were too numerous to even count accurately, though his right eye had bothered him the most. It was still tender, though the swelling had abated. At least the concussion had been mild and left no lasting damage. 

In time everything, it seemed, would heal.

**Author's Note:**

> The cutting Jim does is based on this, which in turn was based on the wax seal Moriarty uses 
> 
> http://thepiedsniper.deviantart.com/art/Moriarty-s-Magpie-Seal-brush-291088420


End file.
